"You know what? It's okay, just fucking LEAVE!" You scream at him. By now you're already standing next to your bed on the opposite side of where Negan is standing. Some tears are still rolling down your cheeks for the so called "speech" you gave him, you really wish they didn't. He didn't deserve to be cried for, he didn't deserve anyone's tears and especially not yours. You're staring at him with a straight face trying not to show any emotion, which is actually a very hard thing to do for you, you've never been good at hiding your emotions for people you genuinely love and care about. You hate it. You hate to admit that you do actually care for him... It's killing you. Your mental health has been really bad lately, you can't sleep, you're not eating enough and you're practically drinking and smoking your problems away. Which, in fact, doesn't help shit. Because the problem is standing in front of you.
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He looks right into your eyes, biting his lower lip and slowly nods his head. "So you're also stealing my shirts now huhn?" He smirks and point at the shirt your wearing. fuck, the shirt. He walks away shaking his head, the smirk still plastered on his face. As he reaches the door, he turns around and says "just so you'd know, if you ever scream at me again, you'll get your face ironed just like Dwight. But I wouldn't wanna ruin that pretty face so I would shut up if I were you." And with that he disappears into the dark hallway. You just stood there. Not understanding a single thing. His words wondering through your mind. You may say you know Negan, but you never truly do. He's the most complicated person you'll ever know. You never know what to expect from him, one moment he will be the most loving and caring person but within two seconds he can be the complete opposite. You never understood him and you'll never be able to understand him.
You were sitting up straight in your bed, staring into space with a bottle of Vodka in your hands. It was around 1am so the room was pitch black and it was completely silent. Your mind was going crazy, you couldn't handle it anymore. You needed to get out of that room, right now.
You were still wearing the same shirt. The same damn shirt. You didn't wanna change, you made yourself think it was because you were to lazy but you knew you just didn't wanna take of his shirt. The way the shirt smelled like him and the way you felt save and comfort in it, like his arms were wrapped around you.
You stood up from your bed with some wiggle legs but eventually made your way to the door. You walked across the dark, cold hallway, the bottle of Vodka dangling by your side. The sound of your bare feet touching the cold floor. You try to make your way up the stairs towards the roof. You pushed the heavy metal door at the end of the stairs and felt a cold breeze hit your face. It feels like the first time in years that you had some fresh oxygen. You walk towards the railing while taking another sip of your vodka. Night has always been your favorite part of the day. Day expects so much of you it literally drains you but the night seems so patient. Night is the part where people are so much more vulnerable, everyone admits how they really feel, think or even who they really are. Everything hits the hardest at night.
You stood there for a while, looking at the stars and far into woods. The sanctuary was basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a large forest. You could hear some walkers pushing against the metal fences. The sound makes you feel save in some way, knowing that you're up here and not somewhere out there, living with the constant fear of being killed at any moment. "Honey, what the fuck, I was so close to throw you in jail, you know? You shouldn't be out here" You turn around in one movement and came face to face with Negan. No. Not now. You didn't have the power in you to fight him again, you were just so exhausted. You wanted to crawl in your bed and cry, you were so sick of everything. "What?" Your voice was shaking, almost whispering. He slightly tilts his head, a grin appearing on his face. "Damn, you look miserable" he walks towards you until your faces are inches apart. Almost touching. You could feel his warm breathing on your skin. His hand holding your shoulder and slowly going down to your hand. The soft touch of his hand on your skin, made you weak. You were paralyzed and couldn't move. His eyes only focused on yours, and yours only focused on his. He reaches the palm of your hand, he grabs the vodka you were still holding, breaks the eye contact and takes a few steps back. "I think you already had enough of that. You're drunk, now go to bed." He turns around and walks down the metal stairs. He left you again with these words. Your body still paralyzed by his touch. A touch you thought you would never be able to feel again, it was so soft, so kind, so careful that you believed it. He totally has you wrapped around his finger.
